My filmmaking journey didn’t start with a camera. It started with love, luck, and serendipity.
Like a lot of filmmakers, it began with a love of movies. For me, that love was sparked at the Grand Lake Theater in Oakland, California — a palace of popcorn and red velvet curtains — where my parents would take us to see wild Disney double features like Flubber and Herbie the Love Bug. I didn’t realize until much later that those outings weren’t just for our benefit. Turns out they were giving themselves a break from all us kids — and maybe sneaking in a little alone time while we were glued to the screen.
I wasn’t a super artsy kid. I didn’t grow up making short films on Super 8. But I was full of curiosity, awe, and a kind of hunger to understand how the world worked. That desire led me to a liberal arts education at Skidmore College, where I studied English and theater — trying to learn about life from every angle I could.
Then came one of those sliding-door moments. A music video shoot happened at my parents’ house on Long Island. I somehow ended up on set as a PA — and suddenly I was watching the world of production up close. That one day led to another. I started crewing on shoots. Eventually I began directing. And just like that, I found myself making music videos for legends like Jimmy Cliff, Nikki D, and Slick Rick. (Yes, that Slick Rick.)
You can check out some of those early videos at blackvalleyfilms.com or on YouTube. They’re raw, fast, full of energy — and packed with the joy of learning on the fly.
Then came another wave of serendipity — powered by technology and a whole lot of heart.
Digital cameras like the Sony VX1000 made it possible to shoot high-quality footage on your own, with just a small crew. Final Cut Pro allowed us to edit on a laptop. Suddenly, storytelling was in our hands.
And one night — another life-changer — I met a woman named Katherine Borik. First date. She tells me she’s a teacher in Compton and wants to start a theater program at her school. They haven’t produced a play in 25 years. She picked Our Town.
Something clicked. That first night, I was obviously becoming smitten. But I also had a light bulb moment. Her idea became my first documentary: OT: Our Town. The story of kids in Compton putting on a Thornton Wilder play — and rediscovering themselves in the process.
So yeah. My path to filmmaking was anything but linear. But it was paved with love, luck, and serendipity — and a whole lot of listening to the quiet voice that says, this matters.
More on that first film soon. But for now, I’ll just say I’m grateful — for every weird twist, every beautiful accident, and every person who helped light the way.
Onward,
Scott